It's time to launch my annual participation in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer Boston (2012). This event takes place in major cities throughout the U.S., and in an increasing number of international locations. The Avon Walks involve striding 40 miles over two days, a feat that requires devoting one's feet to months of pre-event training. Here in New Hampshire, this training commitment either means joining an indoor gym, or calling upon one's New England hardiness and winter wardrobe. Given my limited budget and time, and hoping the fresh air will help counteract the "seasonal affective" hibernation tendencies we Northerners struggle against, I wait until late February to start training for my ninth annual Avon Walk endeavor.
While my walk counterparts in California quickly slip on a fashionable sweater for their Avon Walk training strolls, it takes me five minutes to put on my winter uniform - hat, coat, warm "ugly pants", wool socks, and gloves - before hitting the frozen pavement. It's warmer in Califormia and, well, alive. My walks are accompanied by long measures of silence. Here in small town New Hampshire, no birds are singing, nor are neighbors out and offering staccato "hellos", except mouthed through the glass of their heated vehicles. Please don't spray me with cold wet snow, I think while smiling as they drive by. They don't see my smile anyway. My face is covered by my scarf. In the southwest U.S., Avon crusaders train under green, leafy canopies while smelling lovely flowers. My only reminders of NH botanical life are occasional dried up leaves, crispy fragile vestiges of last summer's vibrancy. I feel sort of like these leaves - dried out and drained of color from too many months spent indoors in my heated home. Then, there is the matter of sneakers. While California girls don light and airy cross trainers, all bright and cheerfully clean, I dare not break in my new annual walk sneakers, the aerated ones that will help my feet succeed for 40 miles. Not yet. Instead, I wrangle my feet into snowproof, windproof, dirtproof lugs. Tres chic. All this gear I must wear in the cold winter days. But, I also bring along my imagination, and my thoughts take me to southern California. I imagine that I am walking with my breast cancer crusader comrades there, and feeling the warm sun on my face.
Starting about now, my pedometer becomes my annual friend. I wear it as much as possible, measuring and increasing the steps it will take me to complete nearly 27 miles on day one of the 2-day Avon Walk Boston event in May. The tick-tick of my pedometer gets me closer to motivating my winter-lazy body back to health again. I start with a goal of 2500 steps a day - just over mile. This is an easy goal. A walk up and down my street, a choice to park far rather than near, to take the stairs rather than the elevator, and my pedometer reading surprises me at how quickly simple habit changes can add steps to my days. Eventually, I will get up to 10,000 steps a day, about 5 miles, and I'll be ready once again to embark on my fulfilling Avon Walk journey. Then, for two days in May, my solitude and the quiet of winter will be replaced by a roaring swell of humanity as we warmly walk side-by-side for a cure.
Most days I conduct my training solo. Sometimes I am joined by a friend, and recently by my teen son who has proudly joined the crusade. I never train with my dog, who finds it more interesting to stop and sniff every few yards while my creaking knees beg me to keep going. When I am lucky enough to have winter walking companionship, the parallel strides and interesting banter make the miles fly, and I forget the cold and my running nose. Our smoking breaths humor me, and remind me of puffing factories or steaming cups of tea. By April, early buds, ethereal chirping, and willing companion walkers will make this training so much easier. I remind myself in February and March that those days are just weeks away. Really. Until then, in February and in March, I create a virtual symphony in my mind. The hope-song melody in my heart is accompanied by the swish of arms swinging in my nylon jacket, while the rhythmic crunching of shoes on sanded roads keeps the beat. .
Left, right, left, right....crunch,swish,crunch,swish...I am ready to commence the training, beaming inside as the earth under my feet and the cold in my face remind me over and over that I am alive, I have survived!
Left, right, crunch, swish, and I can ensure life for others....that's why I stride.... when I could be home and cozy. It's my amazing gift to give back.
For those that want to support me, visit www.avonwalk.org and enter my name: Donna Bramante InDelicato.
